If Only
by depplove
Summary: Will is dead, and Elizabeth and Jack can't believe it. With a little help from the mysterious Zachary, they soon find out that they have been entangled in a web of betrayals and lies all along. PG-13 for language, violence, and sexual content. UPDATED!
1. Chapter One: A Broken Smile

Chapter One: A Broken Smile

Jack was left alone now. He lowered his eyes to Will's lifeless corpse, lying torturously still at his feet.

At a snail's pace, he reached his right hand to the back of his head and felt the tip of his battered, leather hat beneath his trembling fingertips. Ever so slowly, he slid it off of his head and placed it over his heart, as if to slow its wild thumping. It didn't help, though. It seemed like nothing would calm his heart _or_ his mind. Ever.

His hat still pressed between his fingertips and his aching heart, he raised his quivering left hand to his sweat dappled forehead. He then attempted a shaky salute, somehow managing to succeed.

"You were a good man, Will," he said in a low tone. He listened to his own voice, which oddly rang throughout the cave. It then cracked and died, leaving behind the trace of a miniscule echo that he was sure only he could hear.

For a moment, it seemed as if he were drowning in deathly silence. Then, in another split second, he heard the familiar sound of his own heartbeat echo rhythmically in his head.

_That's right_, he assured himself. _I'm alive. And Will is not, because I wasn't quick enough. The dagger was quicker than me_.

He glanced down again at Will, and his lingering gaze finally came to rest upon the dagger. A sliver of the silver blade was still visible, even through the caked blood that surrounded the lethal wound. The short sword was lodged above his stomach, right below his rib cage.

Jack almost wanted the body to stir. He wanted it to open its large, bewildered brown eyes and ask, "Where's Elizabeth?"

"I'll take you to her," he would say, a toothy grin spread across his tanned face. "She won't know that any of this happened."

_She won't know that any of this happened_. Back to reality. He tore his gaze from the gruesome wound and set it upon his own chest. He suddenly realized that he had still been clutching his hat to his uncontrollably pounding heart throughout his whole thought process. He hastily slipped it back onto his head and swiveled around to face the cave's exit.

If only he wasn't too late. If only the dagger would've missed or fallen. If only…

It's funny how a split second in time can change everything.

Jack had seen much worse, but this was unbearable. He walked out of the cave and silently listened to the peal of sound that his own footsteps created on the stone bottom.

_He's gone. And he's never coming back_.

If only…

With that, he didn't even look over his shoulder at the past. He just continued walking, the sound of his footsteps mixed with his heartbeat echoing throughout his mind.

If only.

-----

"No, no, it's too tight," Elizabeth whined, tugging at the lacy strings on her snow-white wedding dress.

"But, Miss Swann, any looser and it'll fall off of you on the aisle," her tailor giggled, brushing her hand away lightly and tightening it again.

She sighed and looked down at the woman that was fixing up her dress. She gazed up and into the three mirrors in front of her; one head-on and two on either side. She didn't want to sound smug, but… She looked gorgeous. Her hair was done up in an elegant knot, twisted intricately at the back of her head. Her lips were full and pink, and her eyes were done up with just the right amount of kohl to give them a smoky look.

"Why, Miss Swann, you look beautiful," the tailor cooed, smiling.

At just that moment, Commodore Norrington stepped into the room. He slipped his hands behind his back and surveyed Elizabeth. He obviously thought that she looked stunning; everyone in the room could tell by his expression. The tailor continued to chuckle.

"Elizabeth, you have a… _visitor_," he informed her.

She creased her perfectly arched eyebrows. "Who?"

"Oh, I think you know who," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. He seemed to be trying not to smile.

She gave him a puzzled look and carefully stepped off of the small platform that she was standing on for her tailor. She raised the edge of her striking wedding dress so that she could walk out of the room, and she let the Commodore usher her to the unknown guest.

"Mr. Sparrow!" she exclaimed, walking even faster, yet still cautiously, towards him. She came to a halt in front of him and awkwardly extended her hand, not quite sure if they were good enough friends yet for her to give him a hug.

He accepted the greeting and gave her a small handshake. His grip was clammy, though, and she silently wondered why. She raised her chin and watched him intently. He was looking rather paler than usual, and he looked at her cheerlessly. His eyes instantly showed a grief of some kind, and she was immediately worried.

"Jack, what's wrong?" she asked him slowly and put her hand tenderly on his shoulder.

He gulped and lowered his eyes. "May I talk to you… In private?"

She frowned. "Yes, of course." They walked into the Swann's mansion, and ignored the dirty looks that some of the servants gave to the obviously unwashed Jack. It seemed like he couldn't even retort or glare back at them. It was almost like he was dead… Inside. _What happened?_ she thought, and escorted him into the grand lounge. He immediately sat down on a large, luxurious couch and motioned for her to sit down next to him.

"Elizabeth…" he began, staring at her with glassy eyes.

She sat down gingerly and smoothed out a ruffle in her wedding gown. This seemed to upset him more, though, and she gazed right back at him. "Jack, what happened? You seem less than happy on Will's and my wedding day." She attempted to give him a small smile, but he ignored it.

Jack slumped against the back of the couch's seat and sighed heavily. After a moment's thought, he leaned forward and fixed his glazed eyes on her worried ones. "Will is…"

She straightened her back instantaneously and looked at him fervently, her heart jumping. "Will is what?"

He leaned even closer and closed his eyes for a moment. After opening them slowly, three life-changing words escaped his lips. "Will is… _Dead_."

The words hit her like a cannonball, and she instantly turned numb. It was like she was given a shot of novacaine; starting at her head, it flowed throughout her whole body, to her chest, her hips, and eventually her legs. She couldn't move or say a word. Perhaps the novacaine flooded her brain, too.

"No, no, no…" she said, slowly shaking her head. With her mouth slightly open, she sudden regained life in her legs and stood up. She walked over to the door, her lip trembling.

"Elizabeth," he said, his eyes widening at her. He watched her walk to the door and put her shaking hand on the handle.

"It's not true," she murmured to the door. "It can't be. It's…" She turned around very slowly and stared at Jack. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gradually walked back over to him and sat down again. As soon as she sat, her head sagged on her chest and the tears fully leaked.

"Jack…" she whispered, looking up at him. Her tears glued her eyelashes into small triangles. "How did this happen?"

For once, he was at a loss for words. After thinking for a moment, he gazed at her. "I… don't know."

She then completely broke down. Wailing and drowning in tears, she rested her head on Jack's shoulder and sniffled, still crying heavily. He rubbed her shoulders and arms slowly, and he laid his cheek gently across the top of her head. He was never good with women and their range of wavering emotions, but for once… He knew what she was going through.

After what seemed like an eternity of weeping and bawling, Elizabeth raised her head and looked him straight in the eye.

"Jack," she began in a surprisingly determined tone. "I want the person who did this to _suffer_. I want them to be guilty through their whole life, and I want them to regret what they just did." She stared at him confidently, and gave him a small sniff of fortitude. "We'll find out who did this, right?" Her grit suddenly turned to desperation as she gazed at him with wide eyes.

"Of course," he mumbled back to her. "We'll find out. We'll do anything it takes to catch this person and give them pain and suffering. What say you to that?"

"Aye," she said back, strangely out of character. She placed her head back on his shoulder and gave him a broken smile. A broken smile of gratitude, compassion, and anxiety all at once.


	2. Chapter Two: Perfect

A note: Thank you for the reviews, everyone! I really appreciate them.

Chapter Two: Perfect

He sat at the bar, sipping his vodka without a sound. He glanced around and brushed his jet black hair out of his face. His shocking blue eyes scanned the dirty pub, obscurely searching for two specific people.

"But… How could this have happened?" a woman's voice said behind him.

"We'll find out," a deeper male voice growled.

_Perfect._

"I still can't believe it," the woman mused in what seemed like a sorrowful voice. "Who would do that… to Will?" Her voice broke on the name.

After taking a deep breath, he twisted around on his grimy stool and turned in their direction.

"I know."

Captain Jack Sparrow and Miss Elizabeth Swann whirled around simultaneously to face him. He had a puzzled expression on his face, while she had a thankful one.

"You do?" she asked him incredulously, her wide eyes searching his face for an answer. "How?"

"I have… Connections," he replied, raising one of his eyebrows. He looked her up and down, and came to the conclusion that she was gorgeous. The way her soft, brown curls caressed her porcelain cheeks, the way she had a prettily formed body and how her gown, which looked like a wedding one, hugged her small curves perfectly.

Yes, she was _perfect_.

"You do, eh?" the Captain asked him. He then slowly twirled his braided beard around his finger and surveyed him.

"Yes," he said, nodding slowly. "Zachary Holstroff, at your service, sir." He pulled his hand out of his pocket and gave the Captain a swift handshake.

"Well, then," he drawled, "let me take you to 'er." Zachary almost wondered aloud who "she" was, but he immediately understood.

The Black Pearl.

_Perfect_.

-----

"Welcome aboard, Zach," Captain Sparrow said, stretching his arms unenthusiastically at the majestic ship that they were on.

He frowned. "Actually, I prefer Zachary," he informed him in a small voice.

"Well, _Zachary_," he taunted, glaring at him, "welcome aboard." He then stomped in another direction towards the large, wooden wheel of the Black Pearl. It was quite obvious that the Captain was in a bad mood, so he figured that he shouldn't bother him.

"Erm… Zachary?" Miss Swann said from behind him.

He turned to face her. "Yes, Miss Swann?"

"No, please, call me Elizabeth," she insisted.

"Elizabeth," he echoed, giving her a small smile. "What would you like?"

"Well…" she looked down at her feet and shifted her weight. She was apparently searching for the right words to say. She looked up at him and her smooth cheeks flushed. "You know… who… did it, right?"

There was a pause. He looked to the darkening sky for a moment, and then turned his thoughtful gaze back to her. "I have an idea of who it was."

She raised her chin in attentive interest. "Who?"

"Well, _that_," he said, turning around in the direction of the below-deck cabins, "I can't tell you. Yet." He looked back over his shoulder and gave her a small smirk, his bright blue eyes twinkling. He then walked below deck, his mind racing and his hands in his pockets.

-----

Elizabeth perched on the railing of the Black Pearl, the strong breeze whipping her hair into her face. Tears stung the back of her eyes from the salty air and the memories, tossed together. Thoughts about Will, Zachary, and Jack pulsed through her mind as she gazed into the slightly rippling, green-blue sea that stretched out ahead of them. She had already mournfully called off the wedding, and Jack had agreed to take her on another "journey." Another journey of the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann, but this time…

Without the noble blacksmith, _Will Turner_.

She could barely tolerate his name, even in her mind. She knew that Zachary knew something important. Something crucial, that he wouldn't tell anyone.

But _what_?

A shiver had run up her spine when he had called her by her name. Her stomach had done a somersault when he had given her that one smirk over his shoulder.

Why, though? She couldn't say.

All she wanted was her wedding day to be… Perfect. But now, everything had changed from perfect to completely warped.


	3. Chapter Three: Trust and the Traitor

A note: Thank you, everyone, for the lovely reviews! A special thanks goes out to my CB friends. :-)

Chapter Three: Trust and the Traitor

"You're never going to get anything done if you just mope around like that."

Jack started, jerking around in his hammock only to find Anamaria in the doorway to his cabin. She had one hand on her hip and the other hand gripping the edge of the door.

"Oh, did I _scare_ you?" she teased, a smirk curling her lips slightly.

"No," he grumbled. "I was just… thinking." He stared at her as she slowly strode closer to him.

"'bout what?" she asked, leaning against his nightstand. She looked at him intently, expecting a straight answer.

There was a slight pause, and he replied, "Everything."

"Everything, eh?" she answered, arching one of her eyebrows. "Anything in particular?"

"Why do you care?" he retorted, looking up at her. He sat halfway up in his hammock and stretched his arms, folding his hands behind his head wearily.

"I was just trying to help," she said, giving him an almost soft glare. She rubbed her shoulder as if his words had really hurt her.

"Hmm. You don't usually help me." He quickly added, "With personal problems, at least."

She sighed and looked him straight in the eye. "Well, today's your lucky day." After a moment's silence, she decided to speak up. "What do you think of that Zachary bloke?"

"Well," he began, lowering his arms, "as long as he knows… Who did it. I definitely don't care for him that much, but he's our only chance of knowing who the culprit was."

Anamaria settled herself on the edge of his hammock and twisted around to face him. "Are you sure he knows? He could be lying, after all. We've met our share of bloody traitors, we have."

He tried to shrug nonchalantly. "Why would someone lie about something as serious as death?"

"Well, think about Barbossa," she said, lowering her head slightly, "that bastard."

A stern look crossed his face, and he sat up completely. "I'd prefer not to."

"Neither would I," she agreed softly, and shifted a smidgen closer to him. There was then a long, thoughtful stillness between the two of them.

After another moment, Jack swung his legs over the side of his hammock and stood up slowly.

"Well," he said in a low tone, "it was nice having a talk… with you." He gave her shoulder a small squeeze and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him. He wasn't the least bit worried that she was in his cabin, alone.

She watched him go, her eyes glazed. She then shivered slightly, because she could still feel his touch on her shoulder. The way he had been startled yet pleased by her company made her wonder.

-----

_Yes, we'll go there. And then maybe here._

Zachary sat at a desk in his dusty cabin that Jack had given him, scribbling arrows and circling cities and places on his map.

_Aha, what about here? This is a good place to drag them to._

He grinned evilly to himself and dipped his quill into his small pot of dark red ink. He then sketched a loop around a large town called Valderik, known for its huge crowds.

His electric blue eyes glinted maliciously as he scanned the wide, yellowed paper that was peeling at the edges. After declaring that he was done, he wheeled around and almost let out a yelp.

Elizabeth was watching him with a concerned, almost sympathetic expression on her face. "Is there something wrong?"

"What? No," he replied, running a hand through his dark hair. He immediately put on a straight face. It seemed to work, because she was instantly relieved.

"Oh," she said, shuffling a little bit closer. "That's good. It's just that you were hunched over your desk, and I was wondering if you were having trouble with something." She ran her hand softly over the desk and frowned at the dust that settled on her fingertips.

"No, everything's fine," he said, glancing down at the map.

"What's that?" she asked quietly, pointing to the piece of paper and tilting her chin to emphasize her interest.

"Oh, It's just a map," he informed her and handed it to her. "Just for where we'll be going. We have to track… him… down."

She nodded and quickly surveyed it. She slowly gave it back to him and gave him a brief smile. "I just wanted to thank you. For what you're doing, I mean."

"Ah," he said, gazing at her, "of course. It's my pleasure." He then gave her that one smirk that tied her stomach into knots. She didn't know why, but for some reason, she felt relieved at the same time.


	4. Chapter Four: Silent Battles

Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! I was listening to a lot of Dashboard Confessional while writing this chapter, so blame _that _for all the vindication stuff.

Chapter Four: Silent Battles

Was Zachary justified to do this?

Yes, he thought so.

He warily peered out his dirty window, watching the people on deck. He saw Captain Jack, ordering his crew around like usual.

Ah, Jack. What a cunning and smart man he was; always coming up with a plan and a backup one to that. But would he be shrewd enough to read between the lines?

No, he didn't think so.

But then again… He could be wrong.

He slowly bit his lip as he watched Jack saunter right by the window and Elizabeth came into view. She slowly looked around and then slumped against the side of the wall unceremoniously. He could only see the outline of her slender figure and her profile. He didn't want to attempt to wipe the grimy window, in case he startled her.

How sweet and naïve Elizabeth was. She was obviously very much in love with Will – How could she not be? They were smitten. They needed each other to live.

He turned his face away from the window, a rosy blush creeping up his neck. He looked down at his hands, which were folded leisurely in his lap. His restful manner hid a complex web of thoughts and regrets.

Was all of this really necessary? He frowned as he silently battled with his own gamut of emotions.

_Yes_, he decided as almost-guilty vindication took place inside of him. _I need to do this. I have no choice._

He brushed his hair away from his face and sighed softly. He then glimpsed at his wrists as his almost unnaturally blue eyes gradually glazed over. Two almost identical, jagged scars lay across both of his wrists, slightly rising at the veins. After staring at the deep scratches for what seemed like perpetuity, he yanked his sleeves down over the marks and scowled. The last thing he wanted right now was to remember _that_.

He leaned back on his heels and closed his eyes. The picture of Elizabeth's beautiful face came into his mind, and he grimaced. He was always thinking about her. But… If anything were to happen between them, it would interfere with his business. And he didn't want that, now, did he?

_No. Of course he didn't._

He opened his eyes a fraction and glanced around his dusty room. He then reached for the candle snuffer, ready to at least try to forget about his attempt at justification for himself… As of right now. He silently extinguished the candle's flame, trying to focus his whole mind on the embers of the slightly glowing wick.

-----

"Alright, what goes to whom?" Jack asked, eyeing the lumpy pile of Will's belongings that was laid in front of him and Elizabeth.

She pursed her lips and got down on her hands and knees, her wavy hair slightly falling in her face. "I'm not sure." She carefully sifted through the heap, setting aside some items from the others.

"Do you have a will of some sort?" he asked, crouching down beside her. "How would we know what goes to everyone if we don't have one?"

"You're right," she said, meticulously digging to the bottom of the load. "There must be _something_." After a moment of effort, she reached the bottom of the pile. Sure enough, at the floor underneath the heap, was a crumpled and yellowing piece of parchment. Elizabeth quickly scrambled for it, eager to know what her now deceased fiancé would give to Jack and her.

She smoothed out the sheet and opened the curling edges. "I'll read it," she offered, tucking her hair behind her ears. She began to read out loud while Jack listened intently.

_William Turner II's Last Will and Testament_

"_With my last will and testament, I, William Turner II, will give my belongings to Commodore Norrington, Governor Swann, Captain Jack Sparrow, and Elizabeth Swann."_

She read the first half of his will, in which he gave most of his money to the Commodore and her father ("D'you really think they need the money?" Jack angrily protested.). He also gave some of his swords and other blacksmith work to the Commodore. After a little while of reading, the part of his will about Jack came up.

_"To my dear friend Captain Jack Sparrow:_

_If I hadn't met you, my whole life wouldn't have been changed for the better. You showed me the freedom and independence inside of me that I failed to see before. With this in mind, I will give you more swords that I haven't given to Commodore Norrington, which is, in fact, most of them. If I hadn't crossed blades with a pirate, I would have never known you or rescued Elizabeth with your help._

_Secondly, I would like to give you my hat. It may seem foolish, but if we had not worked together to rescue you from your undeserved death at the noose, you wouldn't have been able to compliment me on the hat and escape from the British Royal Navy unscathed. And as for the day that they almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow? May it always remain in their memories. I will always remember you, me, and our fantastic journey together."_

Jack couldn't help but smile weakly at this. He reached for the long, leather pouch in the pile and opened it. Inside were many shiny, silver swords, obviously from the very hands of William Turner II. He then picked up the pompous musketeer hat and slowly stroked the fluffy, white feather that was tucked into the side.

Elizabeth gave him a watery smile and turned her eyes back to the piece of parchment. She was fighting back her tears as she read on, her voice wavering slightly.

"_To my darling Elizabeth:_

_We have come a long way. You will always–"_

There was a large portion of the will ripped off near the bottom, and she stared at it, perplexed.

"Where's the bottom half?" Jack asked after a long moment of puzzled silence, peering at it the same way that Elizabeth was.

"I don't know," she said quietly, scanning it. She turned the parchment over and gazed at it, almost trying to find some kind of hidden message written in invisible ink. She searched on every single corner of the will, wondering where the unfinished portion about her was.

"It's… gone," she said in an astonished tone, staring at it. "Where could it be?"

"We'll find it," he assured her, carefully taking the sheet from her and studying it.

_We can only hope that we will_, she thought, frowning.


	5. Chapter Five: No Other Way

Chapter Five: No Other Way

"I still don't see why I must do this."

She sat at one of the bar's tables and crossed her arms defiantly. With watchful eyes, she stared at Zachary as he walked to her table and returned her gaze.

"I _told_ you," he said in a tone that obviously meant you-are-a-fool-and-you-should-know-what-I'm-talking-about. "Make him fall in love with you, and it'll make my job much easier."

She straightened her back and glared at him. "You can't just _make_ someone fall in love with you. Love isn't achieved in that way. You must love them in return to be truly besotted."

"Nonsense," he protested, his eyes dangerously blazing. "You used to make men fall in love with you _all_ the time. Back in our days in Tortuga, don't you remember? You _must_ remember," he probed, a sour smirk curling the edges of his lips.

"How could I forget?" she asked rhetorically as she gave him a slight grimace. "It was all _your_ fault, by the way. You dirty son of a bitch."

He bowed his head slightly, almost welcoming the insult. "It doesn't matter what you think I am. All that matters is that you are doing it, and I will have it no other way," he hissed, and ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword. Once he did this, the hatred in her eyes faded, and was at once replaced by fear. She opened her mouth to say something, _anything_, but quickly closed it and stood up.

"I knew you'd understand," he whispered in her ear in a deadly tone as he got up to leave also. The front of his shoulder brushed the back of hers as he strolled by without another word.

-----

"Captain Sparrow," Zachary called, walking towards Jack.

"Aye?" he shouted back, motioning for him to come closer. There was a small, shadowy figure following him, and he wondered who it was. He began to walk faster and eventually came in front of him. The person was still behind him.

"Who's this?" he asked, peeking over Zachary's side to get a better look at whoever it was.

"She knows her way around the islands, and she also has an idea of who it was that committed the heinous deed," he said and stepped to the side, letting him get a good look at the person.

The figure came into a clearer view. Jack decided that she was, indeed, female. He intently looked her up and down, his eyebrows slightly raised.

She had lengthy and silky hair the color of honey, tied into a low ponytail that's end came to rest by the small of her back. It was crimped slightly, and the pieces that escaped the red ribbon used to tie her hair blew slightly in the soft wind. She had full and enticing cherry red lips, which were half open to expose her white, even teeth. Her hourglass figure was extremely alluring, and her tunic modestly complimented her large bust, small waist, and slender legs. She also had a slightly upturned nose and a prettily arched neck, and her smooth and spotless skin glowed with a beautiful, rare radiance. Her face and body alone was not the most remarkable thing about her, though. The greatest thing about this woman was her eyes.

They were green in color, swirled with a type of dark grey that Jack had never seen before. The color reminded him of a fierce yet beautiful sea at storm. Her eyes sparkled with life, even though they were on a dreary street in the middle of a crowded town named Old Brasepoint, which was supposedly one of Zachary's stops in order to find out who the killer was. Her already large, gorgeous eyes widened slightly as she saw him, and she held out her hand for him to shake.

"Hello, sir," she said with a painfully innocent smile. "I am Lena." When he shook her hand and stared at her, she corrected herself. "Lena Campbell," she said, her cheeks flushing.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said, although he was sure that she already knew. She gave him a slight nod and took her hand away from his. Zachary then pressed a long piece of parchment into her hand and she carefully unrolled it. It turned out to be a map of the Caribbean, which arrows and circles scribbled around it. She began to tell Jack all about the places that they were going to go to, but he wasn't listening. He was still staring at her, amazed by her natural, exceptional beauty. Every so often he would nod or give her a simple "mm-hmm" to let her know that he was supposedly listening.

Although, he never noticed how Zachary was smirking at them in a triumphant way the whole time.


	6. Chapter Six: Regrets and Threats

A/N – Thanks for the great reviews, everybody!

Chapter Six: Regrets and Threats

Anamaria glared at Jack, her dark eyes blazing with anger. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Hmm?" he asked, spinning around to face her and giving her a surprised glance. "What'd you say?"

"I said, "What the hell is wrong with you?"" she screeched, leveling her face with his.

He took a step back and squinted at her. "No need to be _rude_, love, I was only asking a question." He gazed over her shoulder at Lena, who was chatting with Zachary.

Anamaria put her hands on her hips and glowered. "You're not even listening, are you? You're too busy staring at _Lena_," she snapped, instantly bringing Jack back to attention.

"I'll tell you what," he said, clasping his hands together. "You leave me alone, and I leave you alone," he snarled, brushing by her in a conceited way, his arms swinging and his gait swaggering as usual.

Ana shook her head and began to walk with him. She wasn't about to give up now. "Why are you acting so strangely? You let two complete strangers on board, without so much as a second glance." He continued to ignore her, though, so she decided to take it to another level.

"And what about _Will_?"

Sure enough, Jack stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't turn to face her, though; he only listened.

"Oh, _now_ you listen. I thought you didn't even like him! You only used him to get the Black Pearl back, am I right?"

He whirled around, his finger raised in thought.

"If I didn't like the lad," he said in a low voice, "I wouldn't be doing this."

Jack walked away, his face contorted with rage. He was good at suppressing his anger, and this was no exception.

He gripped the edge of the Pearl's large, wooden wheel, his knuckles white. He glared around him at Anamaria, who was managing the sails and glaring right back. With a downright furious stare, he turned away and uneasily leaned against the wheel. Yes, she was right, and he hated to admit it. He _had_ only used Will to get the Pearl back, and it was wrong.

Damn, why do women know _everything_? They can read your thoughts and know everything you've done without them with only a guess. He frowned at Ana, who was too busy scowling at Mr. Gibbs to acknowledge him again. He never liked to see her angry, but then again, she had read his mind about Will and said it to him. In fact, it's worse when somebody knows the truth and they tell it to you, rather than pushing it to the back of your mind and trying to forget about it all of the time.

Although, he had learned to – he had to admit – _like_ the man in the journey of getting back the Black Pearl. As rash and ignorant as he was, there was always a peculiar place in his heart for him. He couldn't help it, really.

So why did he feel strange doing this? There was also a bond between him and Elizabeth. Although he had only known her for about a year, there had been a quirky connection between the two of them ever since he had rescued her from drowning. Especially on that godforsaken spit of land, when they had indirectly gotten to know each other. Nevertheless, they both cared for Will and they were determined to find the murderer.

Still – was Anamaria trying to tell him something? She probably thought that he didn't care about Will, so she decided to mention him on impulse. And bloody hell, what a mistake that was.

Every mention of the boy's name seemed to stab him like a knife. He didn't understand, though – he only wanted to get his goddamn ship back! He shouldn't be concerned about Will that much.

And yet, he was. And he couldn't help it.

He looked down at his feet, instantly ashamed of himself. He had only used Will to get the Black Pearl back, and now he was mortified with how he had acted. Yes, he had planned it from the moment Will had sprung him from jail; but he was beginning to regret it.

Just look at Elizabeth. Her head was always hanging low and her eyes were rheumy and bloodshot since he had broken the truth to her. It hadn't been his intention to demoralize her, just days away from her wedding. Oh, God no, he meant nothing of the sort.

If only Jack had realized earlier what a good man Will was.

"Where are we going?" Lena inquired, ducking her head to keep the cobwebs from brushing against her hair.

"I've found somewhere," Zachary explained, "where we can… Discuss certain issues."

"'Discuss certain issues'?" she echoed, staring skeptically at the back of his head as they made their way below deck.

"You heard me."

She frowned and followed him through a darkened and narrow, damp hallway. She lightly ran her fingers along the moist walls and peered at Zachary through the darkness. "What certain issues?"

He turned at her over his shoulder and began to walk faster. "Come on, Lena, you should know this. I'm not going to explain to you."

Lena pursed her lips and thought it better to just not reply. He looked back in front and walked even faster. As he began to speed up, she had trouble keeping up with him in the slender, dim corridor. They eventually reached a small, oval-shaped room with a single, musty-looking table in the middle. There was no door between the hall and the room, and two soggy, wooden chairs where positioned on either side of the table. They weren't exactly inviting, though. Zachary immediately sat down in the farther chair while Lena stood at the sloping doorway, her arms defiantly crossed over her chest. After a 10-second glare, he motioned for her to sit down. With hesitant steps, she made her way to the chair and pushed it back. She glowered at him as she sat down; an uneasy feeling was growing inside of her.

"What is it? Would you like to interrogate me?" she rudely asked and raised her chin insolently.

"Don't be fresh." His icy blue gaze darkened.

"Oh, I can be however I want to be, Zachary," she replied. "You've got no power over me."

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said in a low voice and slowly pushed the chair back with the tip of his foot. He then stood up and began to leisurely pace around the back of Lena's chair. She didn't turn to look at him as he uncomfortably hovered around her. She could feel his eyes boring through the back of her head, and she clenched her fists in anxiety.

"I've got all the power over you that I need," he stated, his steps echoing through the small room. She pressed her eyes together and laced her fingers, trying to compress her agitation.

"I'm not a simple toy that you can manipulate easily," Lena protested, her voice shaking slightly.

"No, not _easily_," he agreed, "but I'm working on it." A wicked smile curled his lips and although Lena couldn't see him in front of her, she could see him in her mind. "As soon as possible, you will do what you are told, and accomplish it without a fuss."

"I _won't_," she snarled suddenly, infuriated at his comment. It was as if she was his plaything; like he could bend and break her without a care.

At just this moment, Zachary seized a dagger from a small sheath in his belt. He threw his free arm around the top of her shoulders and held the knife beneath her chin with the other hand, malice covering his face. Lena was too stunned to fight back in any way possible, so she sat, horrified, as the blade quivered dangerously close to her throat.

"You know, if I wanted to, I could get a different _whore_ to do this for me," he growled as he pressed the dagger lightly on her windpipe, as if to scare her.

The term 'whore' made Lena want to cry, but the blade made her choke back her tears. "It's not my fault," she croaked in a broken voice. "You made me become one."

"It was our only way to survive," he hissed. "Me being a pickpocket, you being a prostitute. And we endured the streets just fine."

"I…" she trailed off. "I know. I know, Zachary. You don't have to remind –"

"Shut your mouth!" he ordered. "I'm only using you because you're my cousin. That way, I don't have to _pay_ anything to bribe you." He quickly brought his knife away from Lena's throat. As he pulled it away, the tip grazed her shoulder, and a thin gash appeared. She winced but still managed to look him straight in the eye.

"I expect you to remember your place from now on. And that place is, in fact, below me. Do you comprehend?" he asked her and grinned nastily at her timid nod. "Good. You will work on seducing Jack as soon as possible. I'll see to it that you obey me, Lena… I know you will. As long as you remember your place, I know you will."

He strode out of the small room and left Lena, hurt and shivering, below deck. She covered her shoulder wound with a trembling hand and look down at her lap. She was terrified of her own cousin, who had tormented her for years and forced her to become a filthy strumpet. As hard as she pressed on her lesion, trying to stop the bleeding, the pain – inside and out – wouldn't stop.


End file.
